


No Fear Of Falling

by NoraPenblood



Category: Sherlock Holmes and related fandoms
Genre: M/M, Other, Poor bbys, Post-Richenbach, mindfuckery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-16
Updated: 2012-10-16
Packaged: 2017-11-16 11:04:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NoraPenblood/pseuds/NoraPenblood
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s all stupid, Sebastian. Every. Little. Thing.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Fear Of Falling

**Author's Note:**

> Not-Beta'd, also rather unedited for the moment. <3

Sebastian sighed, running his fingers through his greasy blonde hair. “Jim, come on. This is stupid.” He tried to reason with the smaller man, who was seated on the top of the balcony railing, swinging his legs out into the open air three stories above London. Although Sebastian wouldn’t admit it, Jim terrified him when he was in these moods. The times when he spoke in slow, lazy sentences about death, the bliss of disappearing completely from the hell of life.

The shorter man turned his head up, eyes shut, nostrils flaring as he inhaled the icy air. “It’s all stupid, Sebastian. Every. Little. Thing.” He drawled, words sounding like they were drawn through molasses. Sebastian frowned down at him, internally feeling a pang of something akin to hurt. He wasn’t allowed to hurt, his only purpose was to listen to Jim, to protect his boss from any outside danger.

Of course, the line blurred when the danger was inside his boss’ head. “Come inside.” He said after a long period of silence, wishing desperately that his boss would listen, that he would get off the edge of the balcony and come into the apartment, let Sebastian fix him some tea and curl up and sulk quietly all night. He was hoping tonight Jim wouldn’t act on his words.

“Are you afraid of falling?” He asked in his unsettling monotone, ignoring Sebastian’s demands. He opened his eyes slowly, blinking reptilian as he gazed down at the streets of London, the lives of lesser people buzzing about below him, unsuspecting of the danger just above their heads. Jim likened them to ants, going through the dull motions without a brain of their own. They moved on autopilot, wrapped up tight in the pointless quibblings of personal struggles.

Sebastian didn’t answer for a while, eyes glued on the back of Jim’s head. Eventually, he muttered, “Yeah. I s’pose I am.”

Jim nodded slowly, turning his head to fix his dark eyes on Sebastian with unsettling clarity. In the dimness of the setting sun, they looked almost black. “I’m not. It’d be like flying.” He lifted his hand from the railing, his whole body wobbling dangerously, making Sebastian cringe, angled it downwards and mimed an airplane diving. He made a long, low whistling sound that abruptly cut off. “Except with a much more permanent destination.” He stopped, grabbing back onto the railing and steadying himself.

Sebastian swallowed hard, forcing his gaze from those terrible, beautiful brown eyes. “Yeah. I guess so, Jim. Come down now, alright?” He offered a hand, extending it towards Jim slowly and willing his fingers to stop trembling.

Jim looked at his hand for a moment, raised an eyebrow and shook his head. “Nope. Goodbye Tiger.” He winked at him and let go of the metal railing, pivoting forward with his heels and kicking out into the open air. Sebastian screamed, lunging forward but catching only air in his fists. “NO!”

 

“NO!” Sebastian woke up, covered in sweat, tears streaking down his cheeks as he stared into the dark emptiness of his bedroom. He took a deep, shuddering breath and brought a hand to his face, squeezing his eyes shut and trying to breathe. He blearily glanced over at his clock, groaning when he sees it’s only three.

He’s been having that nightmare, amoung a whole slew of others, over and over for the past six months. He doesn’t know who that person is, that Jim Moriarty, and he doesn’t know why he cares about him so much when the man is clearly some kind of unstable psychopath. All he knows is that in every dream, the result is the same. He dies. He kills himself while Sebastian watches, and he is powerless to stop it. It’s disturbing, to say the least, and it makes Sebastian wonder about his own sanity.

He knows there’s no chance of going back to sleep now, so he swings his legs out of bed and tugs the waistband of his boxers up a bit before padding towards the bathroom. He flicks on the light and freezes, all the air seeming to rush out of his lungs. He stares, lips parted, into those same chocolate brown eyes from his nightmares. As he looks, the man from his dreams waves at him, smirking. “Hello.” He purrs, voice taking on a much more real, velvety quality than in the nightmares.

Sebastian is speechless, managing only to stutter, “J-Jim?” He feels lightheaded, and briefly wonders if he has indeed lost his mind.

Jim nods, “Did you miss me, Tiger? I told you I’d never leave you for long.” He says smoothly, eyes glittering with a new madness Sebastian hadn’t quite been able to capture in his mind.

“Wh...How are you... here?” He stammers, taking in every all-too-real detail of the small man before him. He feels like the world has just cracked open down the middle, and something horrific he’d buried is trying to claw it’s way to the surface.

Jim’s smirk melts into a small, confused frown. “What do you mean? Aren’t you happy I’m back?” He asks, almost seeming hurt. Jim doesn’t get hurt. Jim doesn’t have feelings. Jim... Jim... James... Oh christ...

Sebastian sinks to his knees, looking up at Jim with wide, unbelieving eyes. “You... You died, Jim... You shot... You blew your fucking brains out... How...”

Jim moves forward quickly, pressing a very very real hand to Sebastian’s cheek, “Shhh. It was an act, Tiger. Just part of the game. I’m back, I’m right here.” He soothes, stroking Sebastian’s cheek with smooth fingers.

Sebastian shuts his eyes, leaning into the touch as his brain explodes in a whirlwind of memories he’d buried deep down, that had only barely resurfaced in his dreams. Jim, his Jim, his boss, the man he worked for, the man he fell for, the man he fucked and hit and kissed and loved, the man who killed himself on the roof of a hospital because of a goddamned detective. He can feel tears streaking down his cheeks as every memory he’d suppressed comes rushing to the surface, destroying his carefully constructed facade and shattering everything he believes as truth, replacing it with things much more likely, and a million times more painful.

He remembers the year and a half of drugs and drinking, binging on alcohol and cocaine, swallowing pills and anything he could get his hands on until everything was gone, all memory of the man who he loved wiped away and left with a big, burning empty spot in his mind. He replaced the memory with the simple, dull thoughts of the man he had pretended to become. He was ordinary, he was a bachelor, a plain, law-abiding citizen of London, England.

There was no past, no history as an assassin, a hitman, a bodyguard. No memory of a small man with huge eyes and raven coloured hair squirming underneath him in pleasure. So what if he could vividly remember the way Jim tasted, the way he sounded, the way he felt? It was nothing but a dream.

Jim watched his sniper struggle with his thoughts, silent as the tears began streaming down his cheeks. He wondered what Moran had made of himself, how he’d managed to forget everything they’d had over just four years. He looked... plain. Broken, yes, but before that he had seemed normal, as if he were any other man. “Sebastian... Pull yourself together.” He muttered after a while, tilting the larger man’s head up to face him.

Sebastian opened his eyes, eyes that were full of an understanding and a hurt he’d never felt before. He wasn’t allowed to hurt, but now he supposed he was entitled to it. After all, he’d failed at his job, hadn’t he? Or had he really, since Jim was alive and seemingly well, standing over him with those dangerous, clever eyes? He reached up shakily, taking Jim’s hand in his own, testing the reality of the flesh under his fingers.

Then relief. And anger, but the anger was overpowered by the maddening sense of relief. Jim was alive. Jim was here. His Jim had returned. Jim. He shot to his feet, wrapping the small, absurd man in his arms, pressing his face into his hair and inhaling the scent of Jim that he had never managed to forget, only dull a little. He smelt like blood and expensive cologne, just a hint of gunpowder and something like roses. “I missed you, ya’ bloody git.” He muttered, looking down into his big dark eyes.

Jim smiled, returning the rib-cracking hug. He had missed his sniper, although he’d never admit it. He’d missed that thick scottish accent when he was pissed or upset, missed the smell of liquor and cigarettes that clung to him. There was a distinct lack of gunpowder, but he supposed he could guess why. He leaned up on his toes and kissed Sebastian, pouring all the words he could never say into the clash of lips and teeth, the feverish dancing of tongues. When they broke apart they were both flushed and panting, wordlessly grateful for each other’s presence.

~***~

 

 

“I’m not afraid of falling anymore, boss.” Sebastian said, kissing the smaller man’s hair. hey both sat on the balcony, the same one from many of Sebastian’s nightmares, six months after Jim had returned, snuck in, and hid in Sebastian’s bathroom.

Jim looked up at his sniper, nestled snugly in his arms against the biting London air. The sun was just setting, and they were finally getting used to each other again, to the simpleness of being retired from a career such as theirs. “No?” Jim asked, honestly intrigued.

Sebastian shook his head, again testing the memories of countless years with Jim, of the four without him, and the new time, the months with him back. He was scared it would all turn out to have been a dream, that he’d sit up in bed and see only the dark, empty bedroom in his dark, empty flat and know none of it was real. “No. I’m not scared of falling. Once you go through this, losing you, that was a fall enough. If I died today, if we both just leapt off the side of this balcony, I wouldn’t be afraid. I’d go down with you. Laughing.” He replied, looking into those clever black eyes and secretly praying they were real. No matter how many times he touched him, tasted him, heard him, he still didn’t seem all real. He supposed he was just scared, paranoid from the ages of having forgotten.

Jim smiles and kisses him softly, “Have you taken your medication, Mister Moran?” He murmurs against Sebastian’s lips. Sebastian’s eyes fly open, staring unbelievingly at the small man curled in his lap. “Wh-...What did you say, baby?” He stammers. Jim blinks at him, cocking his head to the side. “Mister Moran, wake up. It’s time for your medication.” He repeats, voice wrong, wrong, wrong. He has the voice of a woman, a nurse with red hair and lipstick stains on the collar of her uniform.

Sebastian’s eyes fly open and he lets out an anguished moan, “No, no no... Not again! Dammit! No!” He screams, raging against the straight jacket he’s wrapped in. His dirty fringe of blonde hair falls over his face, blue eyes hollow and mad. The nurse, the one with the lipstick stain, frowns, shaking her head in a pitying manner.

“You poor dear.” She mutters sadly, approaching the writhing man with a syringe of clear liquid. Sebastian doesn’t even care, he’s sobbing, curling in on himself, repeating to himself, “Jim, Jim, No... Jimmy, baby... Jim...” He sobs still as the woman injects the medication into his neck, and he’s still crying, voice slurring as he drifts away into a fog of white nothingness. His last thoughts are of falling.


End file.
